


Late Winter Snow

by artemis_fay



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, M/M, POV Merlin (Merlin), Sledding, Teen Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-16 09:48:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29205375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artemis_fay/pseuds/artemis_fay
Summary: Merlin and Arthur, sixteen-year-old best friends and neighbors, decide to go sledding. But Merlin has started to feel more for Arthur than he lets on.
Relationships: Gwen/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 55





	Late Winter Snow

When Merlin sees the snow he knows it’s only a matter of time before Arthur knocks on his door. 

The flakes fall lazily from the sky, soft and heavy, blanketing the suburban rooftops and sidewalks in a layer of white. Merlin watches from his bedroom window, clutching a tattered copy of Romeo and Juliet to his chest. When he sees a blonde haired figure dart out of the house next door, he dog-ears the page he’s on, grinning, and grabs his boots from the closet. He rushes downstairs and opens the door before Arthur can knock. 

“And of course, you’re already dressed.” He’s wearing the red and gold scarf Merlin got him for Christmas last year, wooden sled tucked under one arm.

“Some of us don’t need two hours to put on our boots,” Merlin replies, shrugging. Arthur only rolls his eyes in response, grabbing Merlin’s arm and pulling him outside. 

“You know if we get there too soon there won’t be enough snow,” Merlin begins, but Arthur cuts him off. 

“Shut up.” Merlin only laughs in response. 

Hardly anyone is out. They wander past snow dusted trees and cars, betting on how long it will take them to get down the hill. 

“Look, there is absolutely no way you can make it in under ten seconds. It’s theoretically impossible.” 

“You just wait, Merlin. I have it all figured out. A month ago, I made it in under twenty—”

“That’s twice as long,” Merlin insists, “and the snow wasn’t as heavy as today.”

“Well I’m bigger now,” Arthur protests. “Unlike you.”

Merlin’s face falls a bit. He’s never been quite sure what to make of Arthur’s snide comments—even during the best of times he’s had a bit of cruel edge.

“So how’s Gwen?” Merlin asks, a hint of coldness in his voice. 

“She’s—she’s okay,” Arthur stutters. “You know, busy, with school and all, and I heard she’s applying to some music camp.” He trails off, blushing. Merlin stares at the sidewalk, wishing he hadn’t brought her up. 

***

Arthur had been talking about asking Gwen out since she transferred to their school in fifth grade. At first, Merlin didn’t really understand why. She was pretty and nice, but Arthur had only spoken to her once, when the three of them worked together on the science fair project.  
“Do you think we should ask Gwen to work with us?” Arthur asked him that day. He was watching her writing in a journal out of the corner of his eye. “I just feel bad,” he added quickly. “She doesn’t know anyone.”

Merlin said yes, of course, because he had never really figured out how to tell Arthur no. But as he observed the way Arthur looked at her, how he leaned in and smiled at everything she said, he wished he had protested more. 

He kept wishing that for the next six years, as Arthur finally worked up the courage to tell her how he felt, and she decided she felt the same way. 

A week ago, Arthur called him, voice strange and cracked, to tell him that it was over between them. Merlin sat in the window seat, staring at the sun setting outside, as he listened to Arthur cry. 

“I think I’m in love with her,” Arthur whispered, and Merlin held the phone so tightly his knuckles turned white. 

***

When they finally get to their usual hill the snow is falling so thickly that it’s hard to see. It takes them at least ten minutes to drag their sled to the top. 

“Should I go first?” Arthur asks.

“If you want.”

He sits down on the sled carefully, knees pinned to his chest. 

“Well, what are you waiting for? Are you going to push me?” He looks up at Merlin, clear blue eyes piercing against the pale snow.

Merlin nods slowly, pulling his coat sleeves over his gloves. Then, he crouches low to the ground, his eyes level with Arthur’s. Their faces are so close he can feel Arthur’s breath. For a moment, it seems like the snowflakes slow their descent. Merlin can almost imagine that they’re somewhere else, somewhere different. 

“Well?” 

Something lifts. Quickly, he pushes the sled with all his strength before Arthur can see his face turn red. 

***

When Gwen and Arthur first started dating, Merlin was sure they wouldn’t last long. He liked Gwen, but she and Arthur seemed so different. Gwen ws thoughtful and studious; she played piano for hours and was always top of the class. Arthur was loud, and carefree, and occasionally obnoxious. 

Merlin knew him well enough to know that he was also so much more than that—beneath every arrogant thing he said there was deep kindness and bravery. But how could Gwen know that? She hadn’t talked to Arthur for nearly as long as Merlin had. How could she know him in the same way? 

After a few months, Merlin began to feel something strange. Arthur was never around anymore. Before he would come straight to Merlin’s house after school, and they would do their homework or play soccer in the yard. Now, Merlin walked home by himself, sometimes catching glimpses of Arthur and Gwen disappearing around a corner, holding hands.

“It’s like she understands me,” Arthur explained one day during lunch. “I’ve never met someone cares about me as much as she does.” When Merlin went home that day he felt hollow and cold. 

***

Arthur hollers as he flies down the hill, snow swirling in his wake. When the sled slows to a halt, Merlin can barely make out his figure stand up, hands raised. He yells something but it gets lost in the wind. 

“I can’t hear you,” Merlin calls. 

“I’ll bring the sled back up to you,” Arthur screams. “Just wait there.”

Merlin nods, giving him a half-hearted thumbs up. 

When Arthur makes it up the hill for the second time, he’s visibly out of breath. 

“Someone’s out of shape,” Merlin mutters. Arthur pretends not to hear. 

“Nine seconds,” he declares. “I told you.”

“That's a lie!” Merlin responds. “I was watching. There’s no way you made that in nine seconds.” 

“Whatever. I was close. Next time for sure.”

They meet each other's gaze. No one speaks. Merlin imagines, like he often does, what telling Arthur everything would feel like. How would he respond? What could Merlin even say that would accurately convey what he feels?

***

A few months ago, Merlin had convinced himself that it was time. It was November, the weekend of thanksgiving. The first snow of the season covered the ground. For the first time in weeks, Arthur knocked on his door, as if nothing had changed. As if it was perfectly normal for him to stop spending time with Merlin for days on end only to show up again, ready to pick things up where he left off. As if Merlin had anything else that meant something in his life. 

They got to the usual hill quickly. 

“Is something bothering you?” Arthur asked. “You're so quiet.”

Merlin only laughed weakly. What else could he do?

“Merlin?”

“I’m just tired,” he said quickly. 

When they reached the top they were both exhausted. Merlin gestured for Arthur to get in the sled—he always went first—but Arthur stopped him. 

“Wait,” he said. “Why don’t we do one together? It being the first snow and all. It’s like tradition.”

Merlin’s stomach clenched.

“Aren’t we a bit big for that at this point?”

“Eh, you’re still scrawny,” Arthur replied, laughing. 

It was a disaster. At the bottom of the hill they were both thrown from the sled, landing in a giant snowbank. 

At first, they didn’t say anything, just lay there, panting. Then Arthur started to laugh. Merlin couldn’t resist for very long, and the two of them remained in the same place for what felt like forever, giggling at absolutely nothing. 

“Merlin?” Arthur had asked later that day. They were back in Merlin’s house, drinking hot cocoa in his bedroom

“Yeah?”  
“I don’t ever want to lose you.” 

Merlin felt a lump rise in his throat.

“Don’t be silly.” 

“You mean a lot to me, and I know I’ve been with Gwen a lot lately, but that’s just because I know that we’ll never change. I don’t want us to ever change.” Arthur’s voice was slow and matter-of-fact. 

“I don’t either,” Merlin responded. As Arthur smiled at him he tried his best to smile back, ignoring the fact that he had lied through his teeth. 

***

“Are you ready?” 

Arthur asks, breaking Merlin’s chain of thought. For the millionth time, Merlin wishes Arthur wasn’t so clueless. At least then he would know. At least he wouldn’t have to spend so much time wondering. 

“Yeah,” he says. “I’m ready.” 

Arthur pushes him hard, sending him hurtling to the expanse of white in front of them. When the sled finally comes to a stop the first thing Merlin realizes is that he’s crying, hot, silent tears. Arthur’s voice comes ricocheting down the hill behind them, but Merlin can barely make out what he’s saying. 

“Eight seconds!” Arthur yells. “Eight seconds, I counted. I’m sure of it!” 

Wiping his eyes hastily, he drags himself to his feet and grabs the sled. He takes slow, deep breaths, preparing himself to make it up the hill again. 

It’s going to be a long, hard journey.


End file.
